


Cleaning Up

by somebodysangel



Category: Sea Patrol (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Massage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 01:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somebodysangel/pseuds/somebodysangel
Summary: Sometimes the best part isn't getting dirty.Porny follow up to The Second Great Flag War.





	Cleaning Up

With everything they’ve done today, she should be exhausted. Running around the bush for three hours would have been tiring enough, let alone the mental strain of outthinking the Army team and making sure her friends did as instructed. Instead, by the time she and ET finally arrive home, she’s exhilarated. Technically, it’s still  _ her  _ place, but he’s here almost as often as she is. They have discussed moving in together, and have decided it’s too much of a risk while they’re both on the same ship. Mike might usually look the other way, but even he can’t pretend there’s nothing going on if they have the same address. So, ET leaves some clothes at the Navy house he shares with two others and puts in the occasional appearance there.

For all intents and purposes, though, he lives with her. Living off base definitely has its advantages. When she parks in her garage and turns her gaze to him, she automatically returns the lusty look he’s giving her. This is what she’s been waiting for all afternoon. Ever since that makeout session in the waterfall, when she felt the evidence of his arousal against her thigh, she’s been looking forward to getting him alone. It sends a thrill through her to know she can still turn him on with a simple kiss, even after almost a year together.

By the time she pulls the key out of the ignition and unbuckles her seatbelt, he’s opening her door. He pulls her out of the car and presses her back up against it, claiming her mouth with his. She kisses back as she wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Their clothes have been wet and dried twice already today, and now they feel dusty and stiff, but she still relishes the feel of his body against hers.

As the kiss continues, she allows her hands to trail down his back, until she reaches the waistband of his cargo shorts. Her fingers sneak under his shirt, tracing the line of his hip bone above the low-slung shorts. His breath hitches and she grins against his lips. She kisses him again as she slides her hands down to squeeze his arse, causing him to groan into her mouth. That thrill runs through her again; she loves how quickly and openly he responds to her touch.

While he’s distracted by her mouth, she digs a hand into his pocket and extracts the purloined strip of fabric. Once she has it in her grasp, she breaks the kiss and his hold, then makes a dash for the stairs. Upon climbing the first two steps, she turns back to see his perplexed face staring back at her and can’t help the giggle that escapes. She holds up the tag and watches his face flood with understanding. Then he pursues her up the stairs, both of them laughing.

Surprisingly, she not only reaches the dining room before he does but has time to turn around to face him. “Tired out from today?” she asks with a smirk.

“I  _ did _ do a fair bit more running than you did,” he replies, then grimaces and grabs at his shoulder. “Ow.”

The smirk disappears immediately, replaced with concern, and she steps back toward him. Had he actually hurt himself carrying those cinder blocks around? She puts a hand on his bicep and opens her mouth to ask the question, then feels a tug at her other hand.

He grins and holds up her tag, looking far too pleased with himself. She can’t help but smile back, his happiness is so infectious. Keeping the tag out of her reach, he wraps his free arm around her waist and kisses her cheek. “I think I strained my shoulder earlier. Care to give a guy a massage?”

Chuckling, she rolls her eyes. He is so predictable sometimes... but it  _ is  _ an opportunity to get her hands on him, so she agrees. “Alright. Take off your shirt,” she says, leading the way to the bedroom.

She pulls back the bedcovers and slips off her shoes and socks, then turns when he nuzzles her neck. As instructed, he’s removed his shirt, so she amuses herself for a few seconds by running soft fingers over his abs. He inhales sharply, then kisses her, his fingers slipping under her shirt to splay over her waist.

Before they get too distracted, she breaks the kiss. “You want that massage or not?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. Without waiting for a response, she pushes him back until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sits down. Another thought occurs to her, and she drops to her knees in front of him, reaching for his belt.

“You know, that isn’t really the massage I was thinking about,” he says with a chuckle. “Not that I’m complaining.”

She smirks at him. “Maybe later. Your legs tight?”

Comprehension dawns and he nods. “Yeah, all that running, no warm up.” Together they strip off his shorts and shoes, then he turns to lie face down on the bed, his head propped between their pillows. Her fingers tingle with anticipation at the sight of all his exposed skin, but she keeps her touch clinical. There will be plenty of time for fun later.

She stands at the end of the bed and starts by just running her hands down his legs. She can’t use oil, not when his skin is covered in dried mud, so she keeps the touch light. It might have been a better idea to shower first, but she knows they won’t be able to keep their hands off one another once they lose the clothes. The tightness in his calves is evident as soon as she touches the muscle; she is actually surprised he didn’t pull something, and curses herself for not thinking about a warm up. Her fingertips press into the top of the muscle, slowly walking in circles down his leg. She can feel him relaxing as she moves, moreso when she presses a palm against the muscle and squeezes with just the tips of her fingers.

When his calves are loose, she moves up to his thighs, then his glutes. And she can’t resist squeezing the firm muscles of his arse, grinning when his breath hitches. He does really need the massage, though, so she refrains from exciting him further. That doesn’t stop her from kissing the back of his neck as she straddles his hips.

He starts to turn his head, but she places a palm on his back. “No, Josh, let me finish. You’ll regret it tomorrow, otherwise.”

She runs her hands down his shoulder blades several times, with a little more pressure each time. When she finds the sore spot, she feels him gasp under her fingers, though there is no sound. It’s on his right side, just below the scapula. Using her right hand, she focuses on that side and rubs her fingertips gently around the spot. For a while, she makes tiny circles over his shoulder, pushing and nudging at the skin. Then she presses her palm against the shoulder blade, her thumb stroking down the side of it so she can probe into the muscle beneath. This time he groans when she hits it, a sound of mingled pain and relief. The muscle is tight beneath her fingers, and she keeps going over it, up and down with a light pressure. Though it’s not supposed to hurt, she can hear little gasps slipping out on occasion, and knows he really needed this. She can’t deny that he earned it today.

Slowly, her touch encourages the muscle to soften, and she can feel him relaxing beneath her hands. When it’s fully eased, she gently massages the rest of his back, allowing herself the more playful touches now. By the time she reaches his neck, he’s practically boneless beneath her, and she drapes herself over his back, pressing her lips to the skin just beneath his hairline.

“Roll over, Josh,” she whispers in his ear, nibbling on his ear lobe as she lifts herself to her knees to give him room. He follows her instructions without comment, then she lays back on top of him and kisses him. He smiles against her lips but doesn’t move his arms; possibly she got him  _ too _ relaxed.

Breaking the kiss, she sits up and dances her fingers down his chest. Now she’s not even pretending to massage. Instead she’s being playful and trying to wake him up a bit. She squeezes his pecs and flicks his nipples with both hands, then traces the lines of his abs. Though he gives a low moan at her attentions, he still doesn’t move or open his eyes. She sees that his hands are both open and empty, so looks around until she spies the tag on the floor. Climbing off him, she collects it and waits.

It only takes a few seconds for him to open his eyes. “Hey, why’d you stop?” he says as he sits up, automatically reaching for her.

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, smirking at him as she winds the tag around her fingers. Lately, they have been discussing him taking control in the bedroom; though she trusts him, more than she has trusted anyone she’s ever dated, she’s still not sure she can let go. It’s why she took the tag back, twice. “You think you can give  _ me _ orders?”

His lips curve into a devastating grin and his eyes sparkle with guile. Those two combined have charmed many a woman into his bed - but he’s already in hers. “I think I could do a pretty good job of it, yeah.” His arms wind around her waist, fingers immediately stealing under the hem of her shirt to skim across her skin.

She can’t help beaming back as she lets herself fall against him. It’s a special smile that she only uses when they’re alone, revealing both amusement and intimacy. Their eyes meet and the charm in his quickly fades to love. In this moment, she realises that he won’t take advantage if she gives him control. He will accept a night and give it back. So she holds out the tag and says, “A token of my appreciation for my brave rescuer, then.”

His eyes go wide as he stares at her hand, then they fly back to hers. She can see him wondering what she’s offering. So she just stares back, letting him see her decision, then nods once. She’ll give him this one night; she’ll do what he says and only that. She won’t try to take over. He grins and kisses her deeply, his fingers curling tightly against her waist.

As the kiss continues, her hands move up to card through his hair, only for her to pull away when she feels the texture. The movement dislodges some of the dried mud to flake over their faces, and she wrinkles her nose. “Damn, ET, you are  _ filthy _ .”

He chuckles and traces a finger along her neckline. “You’re not much cleaner yourself. I think we need a shower.”

“Agreed,” she says as she uses his thigh to lever herself off the bed. Without being asked, she holds a hand out to help him up, though resists his attempts to pull her back. It’s not until they’re both on their feet that she remembers she’s supposed to be letting him call the shots, so she stops and waits for him to make the next move.

With a sweeping gesture, he indicates toward the bathroom. “After you, milady.” Though she rolls her eyes at his language, she complies and leads the way to the bathroom, putting a sway in her hips.

The size of the bathroom is one of the reasons she bought this house. When their relationship became serious, ET suggested some improvements, so they have spent the past few months of shore leaves surrounded by tools and sawdust. The bathroom is the first project finished; now it has a big double shower with built-in seat, a spa bath and a heated mirror. It’s her new favourite room in the house.

He leans into the shower just far enough to reach the taps and turns them on, then tilts his head towards it. “In you get. Leave the clothes on.”

Hiding a grin, she does as she’s told. The water is the perfect temperature, as she knew it would be; he is so very good at remembering the little things she likes. She stays under the spray just long enough to soak her clothes, then gets back out. Though she knows what’s coming, she still waits for him to tell her to strip.

She does it slowly, teasingly, playing with the fabric of her shirt and lifting it up enough to reveal her stomach, before dropping it back down. Crossing her arms, she takes the hem of her shirt and gradually lifts it over her head. Her hands drop to her shorts, undoing the button and zip, but she doesn’t pull them off just yet. The water has liquified the mud covering her, so she trails her fingers over her chest and stomach, drawing random patterns on her own skin. She bends over as she peels off her shorts, giving him an eyeful down her bra. When she stands back up she looks over at him. He’s leaning against the sink and she can already see a ridge in his undies, but he’s not trying to hide it, just stands there drinking her in with his eyes.

She slides the straps of her bra down to her elbows, then runs her fingers over the swell of her breasts above the cups before she reaches behind her back to undo the clasp. For a few moments she keeps her arms tight by her sides and lets the bra hang there, just barely held up by her breasts. Then she locks eyes with him as she moves her arms and lets it drop. To his credit, he holds her gaze for a whole ten seconds before his eyes slide down. She stops, hands by her sides, and just allows him to look his fill.

It’s not until his eyes return to hers that she continues, turning around and playing with the waistband of her undies for a second, before bending at the waist as she slowly peels them down. By the time she steps out of them, he’s moved to stand right behind her, and she can feel his erection against her as she stands up. He wraps his arms around her waist and kisses her behind the ear, then spins her around to claim her lips. She steps backwards into the shower, looping her arms around his neck to pull him in after her. For a while, they just make out under the water, letting the stream wash off most of the mud. He drops his undies and kicks them to the corner of the shower.

Since he’s in control today, she doesn’t initiate anything further, leaving it up to him to pull away. When he does, he tells her to turn around as he reaches for the shampoo. She grins at the wall; one of her favourite things about showering with him is that he always washes her hair. He works the shampoo in for a long while to ensure he gets all the mud out; of course she doesn’t mind the scalp massage, either. He even finds a sore spot at the base of her skull and kneads gently, causing her to groan in relief. While the conditioner is sitting in her hair, he asks her to wash his, sitting on the bench so she can reach his head. Her fingers run through his hair, the way they couldn’t earlier, and she grins at the way it curls around her fingertips. After using the hand shower to rinse his hair, she’s about to get under the water to rinse herself off, only for him to grasp her waist and hold her still in front of him. He presses kisses to her waist and licks the drops of water from her skin. His tongue makes a trail between her breasts and up her throat, then he stands and kisses her gently on the lips before rinsing her hair himself.

He loads up her loofah with body wash and slowly washes her body, the action more playful than functional. He drops kisses on her shoulders as he stands behind her and runs the loofah over her breasts, fingers following the soap and teasing her nipples til they're erect. Turning her to face him, he kneels on the floor of the shower and slowly washes her legs from the feet up. She automatically parts her thighs when he reaches them, and inhales sharply when he gently runs the loofah between her legs. Again, his fingers follow, making a light pass over her clit but not giving her what she wants.

“Josh,” she breathes. He stands up to press her against the wall of the shower and kiss her thoroughly, his tongue thrusting into her mouth rhythmically as he grinds against her thigh. It takes everything in her to keep her hands passively on his shoulders, though she does dig her fingers into his skin. She’s determined to do as he’s asked and not take over.

He breaks the kiss and hands her the loofah. “Wash me?” It comes out like a cross between a question and a command, and she has to hide a smile. He’s going to beg her to take back control before much longer.

She adds more body wash to the loofah and starts on his back, tracing the muscles she massaged just a little while ago. She can’t resist running her palm across his arse, but mostly keeps her touch clinical as she washes down his legs. Without a word, he spins around as she stands back up, and she runs the loofah over his chest. This time, she allows her fingers to touch his skin as she soaps, but still doesn't play like he did. When she reaches his cock, she just washes him, doesn't even wrap her fingers around. She continues down his legs, kneeling in front of him as she finishes with his feet. Sitting back on her heels, she puts the loofah down and looks back up at him. She can see the plead in his eyes; he's desperate for her to touch him. But she remains still, well aware that this is the most passive she's ever been with him. With anyone.

“Nikki, please,” he says, and she tilts her head in question, asking what he wants her to do. “This... this is not what I wanted,” he begins, dropping to his knees in front of her and taking her hands. “I don’t like you like this. You’re not my slave and I never want you to even pretend that you are.”

For a moment, she’s confused, though she doesn’t let it show on her face. She has dated guys before who would have loved her being passive like this; what does ET want from her? Swallowing the uncertainty, she smiles and cups his cheek. “So what do you want? You have control today.”

“I want my Nikki back, the sexy, confident Nikki that I love.” He leans forward to kiss her gently, fingers trailing along her thigh as he pulls back.

“Then ask for that,” she answers, remaining still with her hands on her thighs.

His brow furrows for a second, then relaxes as he realises what order to give. “Just be Nikki.”

She grins, then leans forward to kiss him. This time, she practically climbs into his lap to get as close as possible. He parts his legs to allow her to straddle one thigh as he knows she wants to, though the water covering their bodies doesn’t give her the friction she so desperately needs.

When they break to breathe, he must see the satisfaction on her face. “Did you do that on purpose?” he asks suspiciously. She lifts an eyebrow, and he elaborates. “You deliberately made giving orders as unexciting as it could possibly be.”

“You mean, you didn’t like being in charge?” She tilts her head and looks at him questioningly.

“Acting like a blow-up doll is not giving me control. That’s not what I want.” His arms tighten around her back as he looks into her eyes. 

Water trickles down her body, but she’s entirely focussed on the man in front of her.  His eyes show how much he loves her, but also his frustration. She desperately wants to look away, but won’t break the connection and risk him misunderstanding. “Josh, I... I don’t know how to give you what you want.” Her voice is shaky and vulnerable, which she hates, but if there’s anyone she trusts enough to be open with, it’s him. “I don’t understand how to be me while letting you call the shots.”

He doesn’t look mad, more resigned, as he sighs. “Of course you don’t.” Seemingly of their own accord, his hands trace patterns on her back as he considers how to explain. “Okay… okay, think about today. You came up with the plan, all of it, and we followed it.”

“My plan worked.”

“Yes, it did,” he agrees with a chuckle. “And when you take control here, that’s amazing. All I want… is just for you to accept that maybe I might have some good ideas, too, that maybe I should have some input into the plan. Not the whole plan, just part of it.”

Unsure, she looks down and plays with her fingers. “Josh, I want you to be happy. I’m willing to work on this, I just don't know how.”

He cups her cheek, kisses her softly. “Nikki, nothing about you and us would ever make me unhappy. We will work on this together, that’s what it is to be in a relationship. It’s not about either of us being in complete control, just a little give and take. Okay?”

She smiles and nods, practically bursting with love at how understanding he’s being. “I love you, so much,” she says, then kisses him. He presses his fingers into her hips to pull her closer, then runs his hand up her back to tangle in her hair, tilting her head as he deepens the kiss.

When they break to breathe, he pushes her up to her knees, then latches his mouth over a breast. He flicks his tongue back and forth over her nipple as his fingers tweak the other. He is so damn good at drawing a reaction from her, she can never bring herself to hate any of the women that came before her, regardless of how many there were. They were all just practise to make him amazing for her.

As if reading her thoughts, he pulls back and encourages her to stand. She pushes her wet hair off her face and catches a glimpse of her reflection.  An idea comes to her, and she leans against the wall directly opposite the mirror. He licks the water from her thighs as he makes his way up, teasing over her mound until she spreads her legs for him. She hooks a leg over his shoulder and moans when he flicks his tongue over her clit. He traces something over her, and it's a few seconds before she realises he's writing the letters of their names with his tongue.

Her head flies back when he sucks, almost smacking into the wall behind her. She cracks her eyes open to see their reflection, and it’s so hot her legs buckle. She  _ loves _ watching them like this. His hands grip her thighs tighter, holding her upright. She watches his head move between her legs, mouth dropping open as she sees it from an entirely different angle. Since his hands are busy holding her against the wall, he has to do everything with his mouth. But he’s up to the challenge, alternating between fucking her with his tongue and scraping his teeth over her clit.

She doesn’t realise she's trying to hold herself back until he says, “Let go, Nikki.” His mouth closes over her clit and sucks, pushing her over the edge into ecstasy. If not for his grip on her hips, she would collapse onto the floor. Her entire body feels like jelly. She’s shaking and moaning and he keeps lapping at her, drawing out the orgasm until she pulls his head away. She hadn’t even realised she’d tangled her fingers in his hair.

After she comes down from the orgasm, when her legs can hold her up once again, ET stands up and kisses her, hard, letting her taste herself on his tongue. He presses his body firmly against hers and she can feel his cock against her thigh, so one hand moves to wrap around it, causing him to groan into her mouth. Since she's already sated, her movements are slow along his length. She's not trying to get him off; just keeping him interested while they make out.

Eventually, he stops her hand and places a palm on her hip. “Wait, turn around,” she says with a grin. He turns to see their reflections in the mirror, and his face floods with understanding. This isn’t the first time they’ve done this, just the first since they renovated the bathroom. Now, the mirror is bigger and heated, so it doesn’t fog up at all. Their reflections are perfectly clear despite the heat from the water.

She grins and pecks him lightly, then moves in front of him, facing the mirror. He presses her against the glass wall of the shower and kisses her neck, both of them watching the mirror. Her breasts are smooshed against the glass, dark hair plastered across her skin as she throws her head back against his shoulder. He’s nibbling on her pulse point as his fingers lace with hers and lift their joined hands above their heads.

A hand cups her thigh, lifting it up, and then he’s slowly entering her. She watches the look on his face as he makes that first thrust, as she loves to do every time. Satisfaction is coupled with an unwavering delight, a mix of physical pleasure and deep affection. No matter how many times they have sex, the delight is still there and she loves it. It proves that he's never going to become complacent, and that he won't take her for granted.

His movements are slow and affectionate, just what she needs after the activities of the day. By now he's learned her cues and can tell how she wants it from how she acts during the foreplay. Since his body is pressing her into the glass, his hands are free to roam over her skin, collecting the beads of water from the curve of her breast and the crevice of her elbow. His mouth barely leaves her skin, trailing kisses over her neck, shoulder, jaw, earlobe.

In her position she can’t really touch him but watching him in the mirror is suitable compensation. His expression as he lavishes attention on her is one of adoration; he truly enjoys giving her pleasure. On his next thrust, she uses her internal muscles to squeeze his cock, causing his eyes to fly to hers in the mirror. She smirks at him and squeezes again. He groans into her ear and bites at her earlobe.

She realises that he does have some good ideas - the heated mirror was his suggestion - and vows to keep trying to let him have input into their relationship and their sex life. She knows he wouldn’t do anything she really doesn’t like or doesn’t want to do, so there's no way she can lose. Curling an arm up and back, she twists her neck around to meet his lips. His fingers tighten on her hip when she thrusts her tongue into his mouth, the same way his cock is doing inside her. Pleasure radiates through her when he presses a finger to the sensitive patch on her left hip, and her whole body stiffens. He loves playing with that spot, watching how she reacts so quickly and violently when he so much as passes a finger over it. Many of the people she’s slept with never discovered it, too focused on the obvious erogenous zones to understand there might be others. He found it on their first night together.

From the way his thrusts are speeding up, she can tell he’s getting close. So she kisses him again, then turns her head back to the mirror, presses her palms above her head and pokes her arse out, bending over to give him a better angle. His eyes fly to hers in the mirror, a questioning look in them. She just nods and wiggles her arse. With their eyes locked, he grips her hip and thrusts harder. Though she may not like this position under normal circumstances, with today’s discussion it seems appropriate. The fact she can see his face in the mirror definitely helps it feel less impersonal. As expected, his other hand slides over her thigh to play with her clit, helping her along. She doesn’t need to come again, is still more than satisfied with what he did earlier, but he feels it’s important. And he is damn good at getting her off; within a few minutes of his touch she’s teetering on the edge once more. She watches him bites his lip, knows he’s so very close himself, but he will hold himself back until she’s there. Though it sometimes frustrates her that he  _ always _ puts her pleasure above his own, she can’t help but love him for it anyway.

As if sensing her thoughts, his eyes meet hers and he murmurs, “Love you.” It’s the push she needs to fall over the edge with a low moan, her entire body falling slack against the glass. If not for her hands above her head, she would have smacked her face right into it. He follows her over almost immediately, his body shuddering and draping over hers. He groans her name into her ear then bites on the lobe and nuzzles into her neck.

Eventually, the shudders pass, and she feels his arms loop around her waist to pull them both upright. He kisses her gently, then turns off the water while she reaches for the towels. They dry one another off, trading playful kisses, and collapse on the bed in a tangle of limbs.

His arms curl around her as she rests her head on his shoulder, both sighing in contentment. She tilts her head up to kiss the underside of his jaw as she snuggles closer and murmurs, “To the winners go the spoils.”

 


End file.
